


Dearest Brendon Urie

by MAVEfm



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco, Pride and Prejudice & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Apologies, Love Letters, M/M, makes a little more sense if you have ever read pride and prejudice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-17 00:38:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11840370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MAVEfm/pseuds/MAVEfm
Summary: Upon receiving this letter, sir, please do not be alarmed by any repetition or renewal of my offers which were so disgusting to you last night.Dallon Weekes writes home.





	Dearest Brendon Urie

 

      Dearest Brendon Urie,

 

      Upon receiving this letter, sir, please do not be alarmed by any repetition or renewal of my offers which were so disgusting to you last night. I write to you without any intention of bringing harm to your pride, or humbling myself. Those statements, for the happiness of both of us, they cannot be too soon forgotten.

 

      Two crimes, of no equal measure, have been brought to my attention by you. The first being, regardless of their supposed attraction to the other, my having separated Mr. Wentz from your ward brother, Patrick Stump.The other offense being, in defense of my own pride and defiance of humanity, ruined the chance at prosperity and mortified Mr. Bryar by ridding him of any and all prospects. If I can take this chance to explain my motives, even as I fear my own feelings could be an insult to your own, then so be it, but I am truly and deeply sorry.

 

      I had not been long in Hertfordshire before I saw the deepest feelings, as did others, that my friend, Mr. Wentz had for your ward brother. And that he preferred him over any other young man in the country. It was not until Mr. Stump took ill at Netherfield that I was introduced fully, to the extent of these feelings. Mr. Wentz’s partiality for him was beyond anything I had seen in him before, as well as beyond any I had thought him capable of. Yet I had misgivings after overhearing your very own mother at the ball that had followed only a week and a half afterward.

 

      I was given the impression that your ward brother did not, in fact, share this partiality and was only using my friend for his fortune, or perhaps it was only your mother who took delight in her statements. Nevertheless, I devised a plan to separate Mr. Wentz from Mr. Stump, both in distance and affection, I did so without malice. But I realize I did so without understanding the pain I must have put your brother through and your resentment of me for such an act is not without reason as I had at first perceived him to be indifferent and again, I am truly sorry.

 

      I understand now that he was indifferent because I wished it so, I dreamt up an unfit match between them, out of my own pride, or even out of jealousy of my friend, I am not sure.

 

      I know in saying this I insult not only your mother and her family, but your own family as well, including your father and your younger brothers and sisters but know that I hold you and your older brother in the highest esteem. At the time, I only wished to preserve my closest friend from what could have been a devastating and unhappy connection.

 

      He left Netherfield for London only a day after, which I assume you remember, with intent to soon return.

 

      Mr. Wentz has a modesty that many do not see and he depends on my opinions more than he prefers to, and I have found he depends on my judgment sincerely. I foolishly convinced him that he had deceived himself and persuaded him against returning. I blame myself and rightfully so as I had concealed your brother's presence in London from him, perhaps this was beneath me, I should never have kept them apart but I had convinced myself of otherwise.

 

      To the more dangerous and heavier crime…

 

      Mr. Bryar has had a deep connection to my family since we were boys, though I have no idea of the offense he has accused me of, I can surely rebuke it within these pages.

 

      Mr. Bryar is the son of a wealthy man that once managed the estate closest to my family’s, and his good conduct led my own father to trust him deeply and be indebted to him and bestow his kindness upon his godson Robert Bryar. My father supported him liberally at school and all of his endeavors. He intended him to create a noble life for himself whether in the church or elsewhere. But my father, Mr. Weekes, had never seen his godson in his perceived solitary moments, where he was cruel and unjust to the servants who doted upon him and one I was present to witness as he punished a deaf stable boy for something insignificant.

 

      As years got on I began to think of him in a very different manner, one I doubt he will ever change.

 

      My father, in all his excellency, died not five years ago, most of his will left to me, and his attachment to Mr. Bryar remained steady to his very last breath that in his will he recommended me to continue his business, as well as a handsome sum for Mr. Bryar.

 

      He just as soon squandered it.

 

      His own father did not survive long after mine and he wrote me only half a year after to ask for more to support his study. I lied to myself and thought him to be sincere, and supported his endeavors. I heard little of him again for three years until the inevitable termination of his funds wherein he contacted me once again, all connection between him and I had since dissolved even after I had arranged for him to be receiving of three thousand pounds. I thought it ill to invite him back home or back into town at all. I learned his life to be one of laziness and dissipation.

 

      Once again I received his letter, trying to convince that his circumstances were truly awful and even promised to enter priesthood should I allow him a yearly allowance. I refused.

 

      Once before happened a situation I would rather forget.

 

      He once was left with my younger brother, Gerard, as a caretaker, Gerard at the time had been fifteen and had been pulled from his school in London.

 

      Mr. Bryar had tried convincing him to elope, unquestionably after his fortune of thirty thousand pounds. Before said elopement, I managed to convince my brother of the plot before it was too late. I have no doubt this left Mr. Bryar with a seething hatred of me, one which I share with him.

 

      His embarrassment leaves him with a need for revenge against me, of this I have no doubt, but regard for my brother’s feelings leaves me without any confrontation between us.

 

      This, dear sir, is my own narrative of the events that have thus far connected us and if you do not immediately reject it as false then I hope, to some extent, acquit of some cruelty against your brother and Mr. Bryar. I hope this helps somewhat, mitigate my behavior in your eyes.

 

      I know none of the falsehoods he imposed upon you, I do not have any ill will towards you, you had no idea that any of this had come to pass and suspicion is not in your inclination.

 

      I admire that of you.

 

      I know that you must wonder why I had not uttered these things last night, but then I was not a master of my own thoughts and was at war with myself. I find my stomach churns and my mind becomes upset even at the smallest of gatherings and in front you, Brendon Urie, I am a wreck, an embarrassment to myself as your words brought me to levels so low and sorrowful that I could barely believe myself. I believe you, however, that I am the last man alive you would want to marry. I will not question you ever again in such matters even as it strips me bare.

 

      I understand that of all the weapons I would wield, Love, is of the most dangerous, igniting a war within my chest that seems to never cease.   

 

      I have suffered a mortal wound at your hands, Mr. Urie, and I question at which hour did I fall so deeply under your spell? I cannot fix the hour or spot, nor narrow the look you gave me or the words you spoke that laid the foundation and it pains me that I can never discover it.

 

      I was in the middle before I realized I had ever begun and what a proud and ignorant fool I was.

 

      I have faced the harsh truth that I will never win your love in this life and though it pains me, your happiness has been taken on above my own. I hope that you may find it, whether with your family or friends or in any way you can find, and may God bless you that it lasts.

 

      I would despise the very moment you are unhappy with every piece of my soul and I fear for the whole of England if it ever happens. For in your resolve I see you razing the very country to the ground if such an event should arise, in your very wit and emotion and strength of even just your character alone I see us all as powerless to stop you. I would make no attempt either way for on the first night we met I saw in your eyes a delicacy and a person so incredible that perhaps even then I knew of my own feelings without understanding.

 

                                                                                                                                        May God Bless You, in everything,

 

                                                                                                                                                                                       Dallon Weekes

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> this happened as I was writing the third installment of Le Velo Pour Deux


End file.
